I saw a disturbing sight again today. Last week, when I read the background of this guy, I thought to myself, oh no, another problematic fellow. Pick somebody in Singapore below the age of 20, and does not understand english.
Today, I saw his dad. He was not informed of what happened to his son, hence he came down to camp, asking what had happened. He was surprisingly understanding, and had no problems as long as he was assured of where his son was. He was trying hard to speak up for his son, and finally, hints of exasperation showed, gradually becoming more and more obvious.
What was more disturbing was the way the father appeared. Dressed in an old polo t shirt, bermudas and flip flops, he appeared looking dishevelled. His face, other than expressions of fatigue and worry, told another story as well. His right cheek was swollen, with a plaster pasted haphazardly across. The edges of his lips and teeth were red, with blood. As he pleaded with us to take care of his son in hokkien, he would raise a piece of cloth to his mouth to wipe away the blood every now and then. The originally fresh white cloth was already red and soggy with fresh blood. As he spoke, the blood kept flowing and flowing, non stop. It was not appalling sight. Rather, it was more of a disturbing sight.
I recalled reading something about oweing loan sharks money, and deep down inside i hope and prayed that it was not the case.
His father also worked at religious shrines as a "possessed figure". Basically, it involves one to do something to the effect of an indian kavadi, by letting a spirit possess your body hence you wont feel any pain. People involved in jobs like this may get whipped or have to poke things through their bodies.
The father told us that he did not contact us until now as he had been busy at work. His workplace was too far away frm his home, and he did not want to waste money on transport, hence he chose to sleep at his workplace, which was an electronics factory.
I looked at him. He was about my father's age. I would not allow my father to go through something like that. blood pouring out of his mouth every single sec, yet he still would not stop talking, pleading with us to give his son a chance. A father's love. I am not a saint. But I would be ashamed of myself if I ever had to let my dad go through something like this.